


Perishing Pearls

by Oh_Contrary



Series: Tumblr Prompts a la Voltron [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established relationship Klance, Familial Abuse, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, M/M, Panic Attacks, kid lance, toxic masculinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-22 22:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15592512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Contrary/pseuds/Oh_Contrary
Summary: A training session with the team goes awry when Lance has to spar against Allura, who's wielding her new whip. The mere sight of it raises ghosts he'd much rather forget.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> I need to start this one with Immediate warnings: darkness ahead and not my usual kind. This fic deals with domestic and familial abuse. Please tread carefully.
> 
> This is another prompt from my [tumblr](https://profoundprincessface.tumblr.com/), this time from an anon!
> 
> The prompt: _You could write about lance being scared if Allura weapon because its a whip and lances dad used to beat him with a belt and it mentally hurts him more because it used to be his Bayard and Allura his friend has it (whip). Sorry if you dont want to because this topic makes you uncomfortable or something. ( ´∀｀)_
> 
> When requesting prompts like this, please follow this anon's example and give your authors an out. They gave me a clear exit if I needed it, which was courteous and appreciated.
> 
> I tried something different writing-wise here, so please let me know what you think. The heavy angst is at then beginning of this fic, with the resolution coming in a week!
> 
> As always, let me know if there are any trigger/content warnings I need to add.
> 
> *blows kisses from the farthest reaches of space*  
> ~Tay

_He could still hear Mari, humming desperately to distract him from the shouting, from Therese rubbing salve into the lashes._

_It turns out there had only been four. Four lines of fire, four scars faded tight and shiny: one on his side, the first hit that had sent him to the ground; two on his arms, trying to cover himself; and one high on his cheek from him failing to do so. The last one was only an inch from his eye. Any higher—_

“Oh, nice one, Allura!” Pidge crowed from beside him. Lance startled. He was in the training room. They all were. Since so many of them had swapped bayards, Shiro had them running new weapons drills and right now it was Allura’s turn. She was taking her new whip against the training bots. It was... Well, Allura had always been a fantastic fighter, but with the whip she was scary— elegant and lethal. The crack of it split the air—

 

“ _Don’t you want to be a man? Eh? A Stallion!” He cracked the whip again and the horses nickered restlessly in their stables. “You need to see a real man to be a real man. Don’t you want to be a stallion?” The whip cracked again. Rogelio bore down on him. “Answer me! Pinche maricon!—” again with the whip— “Answer me!”_

“Who’s next?” Shiro asked. “Or should we pair off? Lance, you wanna spar? You could go against Allura since you're both warmed up.”

Lance froze. He knew that beside him the others were cheering him on but he could only hear his grandfather’s shouting, his mother’s screams as she ran to intervene--

“Well?” Allura asked. She was standing over him, offering a hand to help him up.

“I— I’m still pretty beat from my last round,” he managed. His throat felt like sandpaper. When had his tongue gone dry?

“That just means you’re scared to lose,” Pidge stage-whispered. A chuckle swept the group and Lance tried and failed to copy it.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Allura smirked, pulling him up. When had he taken her hand? He couldn't find his body, couldn’t link it to his mind—

 

_Abuela Carmen had been singing for him as he whirled about, one of her skirts pulled up to his chest, a smear of pink lipstick painting his mouth, and his round cheeks red with rouge. Her voice was lilting and she clapped steady beats, the flamenco songs of her youth becoming the ones of his as she swayed with him in her own white and yellow sundress._

_“You dance almost as good as me!” she said with a wink. Lance just beamed, swiveling his hip like his mother did at community dances,and tossing his hair— thick curls down past his ears— like his older sisters did when they played the radio in the kitchen._

_They were in Spain for Therese’s quinceañera, having wanted a trip to their grandparents instead of the usual big party since she didn’t think she’d have people to invite— they had moved from Cuba to Miami the beginning of that summer because of their father’s job, the same job he’d be at until Sunday, joining them on the farm for the second week of the trip._

_Lance was home alone with just his grandparents, his mom and older sisters having gone out that morning to run errands. It was late afternoon now. His abuelo was asleep in front of the tv and Abuela had been out in the flower garden when he got bored and went upstairs._

_The thing about his abuelos’ house is that they owned the oldest things he’d ever seen. His mother’s childhood bedroom was in this house, still yellow and lacy. The walls were filled with photos of his entire family, from black and white ones fraying in their frames to the glossy full color photos of him and the girls from picture days at school._

_His favorite out of all was a photo of Abuela at a dance competition. Her dark hair in glossy curls, her mouth a painted smirk, and a string of pearls around her graceful neck. Her dress was all fluff and ruffles and Abuelo was beaming at her side. Together they held up a trophy and a banner along the bottom of the picture said “Carmen and Rogelio, Second Place” in curling script. They looked happy, beautiful and bright. So when he found that string of pearls on Abuela Carmen’s dresser—_

 

“Lance, are you okay?” Allura asked, looking at him like he wasn’t all there. Considering he didn’t know when they’d made it to the center of the room or when Shiro had picked up the timer, he figured it was a valid concern.

“Just tired, princess,” he said. He rounded the circle. Taking a deep breath and activating his bayard—

 

_Abuela came up the stairs, calling him quietly and gasping when she found him in her closet before devolving into laughs._

_“Tan hermoso, Lancito!” she smiled, letting him drag her into the center of the room so they could dance—_

 

“Helmets on, Lance,” Shiro called.

 

_“Carmen?” Rogelio called from downstairs. “Lancito?” Abuela went still, face going pale as she heard Rogelio on the stairs. She bustled him into the bathroom, yanking the skirt off and shoving wet tissues against his mouth, telling him to wipe off the lipstick—_

 

“First person to disarm or get three hits,” Allura’s bayard flickered to life, whip crackling as it hit the ground.

 

_Rogelio made it to the master bedroom, turning the doorknob to the bathroom and finding Lance and Carmen on the floor, Carmen frantically trying to get the blush off his cheeks, the pink off his lips, and a string of antique pearls still around his neck—_

 

“Start!”

 

_“Rogelio! Rogelio, please! He’s just a boy—”_

_“A boy like that will be nothing, Carmen! He has to learn!” Rogelio pushed her into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, grabbing Lance’s arm and dragging him, already crying, through the house and out onto the ranch. “Look at that!” Rogelio said, pointing out at the fields. Lance shook his head, crying into the arm free from Rogelio’s bruising grip. Rogelio shook him, grabbing his chin and pointing his face out towards the long stretches of land, fenced in different plots. “Built by men! By my father, by his father before that. Men with pride! Not sissy-boys in their grandma’s pearls” He yanked on the necklace and it snapped, sending pearls rolling across the cracked ground._

 

Allura came at him immediately, rushing forwards with a yell. Lance dodged what would have been a successful charge, but she didn’t stop, slinging her arm back and sending her whip for his feet. It wrapped around one ankle and she yanked, sending him down hard on his back. He activated his bayard and used the flat of his sword to block Allura’s foot as it came down over his torso. He flipped her away and cut his sword down against the whip around his ankle, interrupting the stream of electrons long enough two free himself.

He sprung up, sinking into a defensive stance as he and Allura began to circle—

 

_“Answer me!” Rogelio roared, cracking the whip again. The horses knickered restlessly in their stalls and Lance flinched where he knelt on the ground, gathering the pearls in his tiny hands. “Unbelievable,” Rogelio spat, circling like a wildcat. “Don’t you want to be a man? A stallion?”_

_“No!” Lance had shouted, wailing into the air. Tears ran down his face, smearing the remaining makeup._

_Rogelio went still._

 

Lance’s bayard shifted to a stun gun and he fired at Allura, constantly moving to keep himself out of range of the whip.

“Lance, focus!” Shiro called.

“You can do it!” Hunk yelled.

But Lance was sweating profusely. His hands shook and his aim was all off. For all the rounds he’d fired, not one had hit Allura. He couldn’t take his eyes of the whip as it sliced through the air and his shots strayed far from her body. He shook himself, trying to refocus—

 

_“What did you say?” Rogelio growled, still for the first time in minutes. Lance just shook his head, rubbing his leaking eyes with his hands. “Stand up and answer me, dammit!” Lance got up but stayed quiet. “Answer me!”_

_“Lancito!” Carmen called, voice ringing high and frantic from the gardens._

_“Well?”_

_“I said no!” Lance yelled, eyes clenched shut and hands in tight fists at his side. “Not if it makes me a meanie like you!” He opened his eyes, sending all the glare his seven-year old self could muster at his grandfather’s enraged face._

_He barely saw the whip move, only felt the burst of fire against his side—_

 

Allura was closer. He shifted to his sword using it to counter the whip as it flew near, bouncing it away on the flat of the blade. He missed and it hit his bicep, wrapping around his torso on the follow through and letting Allura pull him forwards into a kick.

 

_He hit the dirt with a thud, eyes wide and mouth open on a silent scream. Blood rushed in his ears and in the distance he knew someone was shouting.  He could hear a woman screaming, maybe two? Where were they? Where was up? All there was was pain—_

 

He went spinning away from Allura, landing on the ground with a thud. He rolled onto his back, shifting his bayard again and firing twice into her breastplate, pushing her back. He jumped up, aiming again. Two shots at her feet to keep her off balance, another towards the hand holding her bayard—

 

_It turns out there had only been four. Four lines of fire, four scars faded tight and shiny: one on his side, the first hit that had sent him to the ground; two on his arms, trying to cover himself; and one high on his cheek from him failing to do so. The last one was only an inch from his eye. Any higher—_

 

Allura’s whip flew towards him and he swung to block it— a moment too soon. He missed and the whip snapped against his face, sliding into the space in his helmet, splitting his lip and cutting down his chin—

 

_His mother cried out as she caught the whip in hand, wincing as the thick leather wrapped up her arm like a snake._

_“Jimena,” Rogelio yelled, running towards his daughter, anger rushing away like water. Jimena simply stood, with fire in her eyes. She pulled up the whip he had dropped, taking it in hand as she began to shout at her father. Carmen came and gathered Lance in her arms, pulling him off the cracked and bloodied earth._

_She wept as she carried him into the house, her white and yellow sundress staining red with blood. They made it up to his mother’s old room where his sisters had been waiting, ordered there by their mother. They cried out when he entered, both screaming in fear at the sight of his bloodstained shirt and dripping arms. They crowded close frantically, reaching for him and bombarding Abuela with questions._

_“Strip the bed and get towels,” Carmen said, voice frighteningly level; but she was lost under the girls’ panic. “Towels!” she shouted, and then Mari and Therese were off, pulling the blankets of the bed and shoving them on the floor and laying towels over the bare mattress._

_Carmen laid Lance in the center of the bed, shushing him when he cried out at begin shifted._

_“Therese, the first aid kit from the bathroom and the a short jar with a green lid from the cabinet. Mari, go to my sewing table and bring back the scissors. Come straight back. Do_ not _go downstairs.”_

_But even from the upstairs hallway, the girls could hear the shouting. It carried over the ranch and the backyard: Jimena’s clear soprano cursing Rogelio. They made their way back into the bedroom, pulling the door closed. Carmen cut Lance out of his shirt, revealing the lash on his side, already raised into a thick welt with dots of blood rising in various spots. Luckily, his shirt had saved him from worse damage as seen by the skin of his arms and cheek, which was split open._

_With the shirt gone, she passed bandages to Mari and Therese. “For his arms. Tight, to stop the bleeding.” She handed them the jar, it was filled with a thick, oily pulp, an old remedy for when ranch hands had brushes with the whip— though those had never been quite so vicious or… intentional. “When the bleeding slows, rub this into the wound.” She got off the bed, going to the door. “Stay up here until me or your mother come and get you.”_

_“Abuela—” Mari started._

_“Stay. No matter what, you stay. Don’t leave your brother. He needs you.” And she slipped out the door._

 

“Lance? Lance!” Shiro was gripping one of his wrists, trying to pry his bayard out of his hand. Keith was seated on his chest,pinning him down and  holding him steady. “Lance, we need you to calm down,” Shiro said, pinning Lance’s other hand to the floor.

He thrashed beneath them, frantic Spanish spilling between bloody lips. He coughed, choking on his own blood as it ran back into his throat. Nevertheless, he kept talking, shouting, pleading with them.

“Keith,” Shiro said, eyes pleading. “You have to calm him down, he’s going to hurt himself.”

Keith nodded, handing Lance’s wrist to Shiro and leaning over Lance. Keith pulled off Lance’s helmet, taking his face between his hands and trying to hold him still.

“Lance, cielito, please. Come back back to us.” Keith stroked his thumbs along the sides of Lance’s bloody face. “I know you’re hurting, but you need to come back. Ven a mí, por favor,” he switched to Spanish, matching Lance’s ramblings in his native tongue in an attempt to break through the other boy’s terror. “Estoy aquí para ti. No te preocupes. Estoy aquí. Estoy aquí, cielito. Calmate—” Lance bucked beneath him, head slipping through Keith’s now blood-soaked fingers to bang against the floor.

“Lance!” Keith said, moving to cradle Lance’s head in his hands. The hit had stunned him, sending him quiet for long, nearly terrifying seconds as his eyes stared blankly past Keith towards the ceiling. Finally, Lance’s breath hitched, and tears gathered in his eyes, rolling free silently.

“Oh, Lance,” Keith sighed, gathering him up against his chest. He ran bloody fingers over the other boy’s hair, shushing him gently.

“K-Keith,” he stuttered, blood and spit landing against Keith’s neck as he tried to talk with his ruined lip. “No-no p-p-puedo. El-el látigo, lo me asusta. No—”

“Shh, it’s okay. The whip is gone. We’re gonna get you and Allura to the med bay, everything will be fine—”

“‘Lura?” he slurred, looking over Keith’s shoulder; but the training room was empty save them and Shiro.

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith said, pulling Lance’s attention back with a caress. “Let’s get you to the med bay, hm?”

Keith climbed off of Lance, carefully passing him to Shiro who lifted him carefully. Shiro carried him to the med bay, Keith following along and keeping up a steady stream of assurances.

Lance didn’t fight as they slid him into a healing suit. He barely seemed to notice his surroundings, ignoring the worried questions of his team entirely. They tucked him into the pod next to Allura’s and Keith gently cupped the other boy’s cheek, brushing a thumb through the tears there.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, okay?” Keith promised. Lance said nothing as Keith stepped away, letting the pod slide closed with a click.

 

_He could still hear Mari, humming desperately to distract him from the shouting, from Therese rubbing salve into the lashes._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves!
> 
> It's a week late but sooo much better than the first draft so like... *shrug*
> 
> Maintained warnings from the first chapter: situations of domestic and child abuse, with additional warnings for panic attacks. And, as always, please let me know if there are additional trigger/content warnings I need to add!
> 
> This was a really hard write so any and all the love you can send is greatly appreciated.
> 
> besos from space-os!  
> ~Tay

Lance fell out of the pod and into Keith’s arms. The rest of the team was gathered in the med bay, watching as he tried to shake off the fog of cryo. His head was pounding and, as Keith and Shiro helped him to one of the sickbeds, he realized the rest of him ached too.

“What happened?” he asked, looking at the others. Uneasy glances swept from person to person.

“We… we don’t know,” Hunk said. “You were sparring with Allura and she got a bad hit in and… and you kind of went berserk.”

Lance flinched, rearing back at the sudden memory of the fight. The last thing he remembered was Allura’s whip across his chin and then—

 

_ “Lancito!” His abuela’s scream rang in his ears. It echoed with his sisters’ own crying, his mother’s rage _ —

 

“Lance! Lance it’s okay. You’re safe, you just need to calm down,” Shiro said from the end of the bed.

Lance’s breath rattled in his chest, which seemed to be tightening— his ribcage ratcheting closed around his lungs. He raised a hand to his cheek, touching the faint scar there, so old and faded that it was hardly visible.

“Cielito, look at me,” Keith pleaded. He threaded a hand into the hair at the back of Lance’s head, tugging gently to make the other boy look at him. “Lance, please.”

His eyes snapped up to look at Keith, who was leaning over him, face drawn with worry. Lance took another gasping breath, leaning his head back into the cradle of Keith’s hand. His eyes welled with tears as the come down from his earlier panic— delayed by his time in cryo— hit him full force. His mouth moved wordlessly, and he shook where he sat. Keith tugged him forwards, tucking Lance’s face against his neck in time to muffle the other boy’s scream as it started.

He looked helplessly at the others in the room, who looked restlessly between Lance, crying on the bed, and Allura, still in a healing pod. As much as he trusted his team, he knew that Lance wouldn’t want them to see him break down like this. Moving quickly, Keith gathered Lance in his arms, hoisting him off the bed and carrying him out of the crowded med bay. They made their way to Lance’s bedroom and Keith lay him on the bed, tucking the blankets tight around him. He sat on the floor by the bed, maintaining a steady stream of reassurances and gentle touches as Lance shook himself through the remnants of his panic attack.  

Lance came out of it slowly, his crying tapering into jagged whimpers and his shaking quelling into occasional tremors. Finally, he leaned slowly into the hand Keith had in his hair, before turning sleepily towards Keith.

“Hey,” Keith whispered, giving the other boy a relieved smile.

“Hi,” Lance rasped.

“I didn’t think to grab water, sorry. I could go to the kitchen and get some?” Keith offered even though he was hesitant to leave Lance like this. He didn’t fully know what to do. In the span of their relationship, short as it felt, he and Lance had seen each other in various states of disarray. They’d held each other through the come down after hard battles and grievous injuries. They’d both seen their fair share of fear and panic, yet Keith had never seen Lance break down like he had in the med bay. Lance's episodes were usually quiet, frantic moments of insecurity and fear. This, this was fear mixed with pain and rage; and all of it caused by something Keith couldn’t even identify.

Lance shook his head and his eyes slid closed again.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly.

Keith pursed his lips but said nothing. He brushed his hand out of Lance’s hair to stroke his thumb over Lance’s cheek. Lance flinched, eyes snapping open as he jolted upright and away from Keith’s hand. Keith drew back immediately, looking wide-eyed at Lance.

“Lance?”

“S-sorry—”

“No, don’t apologize. I… That was my fault.”

“You should be allowed to touch me, Keith,” Lance snapped.

“That doesn’t mean you always have to like it. You’re obviously going through something—”

“Can we not?” Lance said, turning away from Keith.

“Lance, I’m worried. We all are—”

“Well stop, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And I’m not asking you to. I just want to know how to help—”

“I could use that water now,” Lance said tersely, looking towards the door. Keith frowned, but nodded quietly.

“Anything else? I could bring some food too?”

“No, I need to get out of here,” Lance said, turning and pushing his legs off the bed. Keith scrambled to his feet, standing up to help.

“Let me—”

“I’m  _ fine, _ Keith,” Lance ground out. Keith took a step back, raising his hands placatingly as Lance wobbled to his feet.

“We should go check on the others,” Lance said finally.

“Lance, are you sure? You can rest. I’m sure they would want you to—”

Lance shook his head. “I need to check on Allura. I need to apologize.”

“You remember what happened?” Keith asked carefully.

“No, but I know I hurt her! During training, which- which isn’t supposed to happen. I don’t— what did I do? I can’t remember anything, it’s just—” memories of the farm house— “It’s just a mess up here.” He pressed his hands against his temples, clenching his eyes shut and tugging on his hair.

“Hey, none of that. You’re okay,” Keith said, coming to stand beside him and taking his wrists. He tugged Lance’s hands away from his head and held them tightly in his. He lifted the other to cup Lance's cheek, before remembering himself and drawing back. “Lance, please. What’s going on? I can't help if I don’t know.”

“It’s nothing to help, Keith. It’s just… Just some stuff I’d tried to forget.”

“Lance—”

“Please, Keith.”

“Okay,” Keith said, gritting his teeth against the urge to shake Lance and draw out whatever was haunting him. “Okay. We’ll go get you some water and then we’ll check on Allura.” Lance gave him a tired attempt at a smile and Keith helped him off of the bed and out towards the kitchen.

When they got there, the others were gathered around the counter. Coran was guiding Allura into a chair and the others were putting together dinner.

“Lance!” Pidge said, crossing to him and Keith. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Lance said, following her to the counter to sit down.

“You gave us a scare, buddy,” Hunk said, setting a bowl of food in front of him. Keith came with a glass of water, and sat beside him. Lance took it and drank quickly before looking down the counter at Allura.

“Allura, are you okay?” Lance asked, looking down the counter at her.

“I’m perfectly fine, Lance,” she said gently. And you?”

“Fine. I just… I don’t know what happened. How did I hurt you?”

“Lance, it’s my fault. You were off the entire fight. I should have had us stop.”

“Allura—”

“It was just training. I shouldn’t have pushed you when I knew—”

“Allura,” Lance said tiredly, closing his eyes. “Please.”

Allura looked down into her own bowl. “Our bayards are all connected to our lions and they give us what we need based on the situation. That’s why usually, during training, your rifle is only ever a stunner, totally harmless. But, when I hit you, something in your reaction put you and, as a result, your lion on the defensive. Something else took over— you weren’t yourself, is what I’m trying to say. You came at me, but it still was a accident. You couldn’t have known you’d hurt me—”

Lance’s eyes snapped open and he looked at Allura. 

“I shot you,” Lance choked. His wide eyes filled with horror and he wobbled out of his chair and onto his feet. “I shot you with my bayard. I don’t even remember—”

“Lance, it’s okay. You were having some sort of episode—”

“And I  _ hurt  _ you.” Lance was backing out of the room now, shaking his head and pointing between them with trembling hands. “You’re my team. My family. We don’t do that to each other. We-we shouldn’t— Oh god, I’m just like him.” the last part was whispered, as he wrapped his arms around himself. “Allura I’m so sorry—”

“Lance, don’t apologize. I should have been more careful with the whip— it’s a blunt force weapon. It doesn’t have a safer option—”

“Why is it a whip?” he choked suddenly, back hitting the wall. “Why- Why does it have to be that. Why did Blue give you a  _ whip  _ of all things. You’re a fantastic fighter, you could wield anything and she— Oh god she gave you the one thing, the  _ one _ thing—”

“Lance?” Allura asked, stepping forwards, concern coloring her eyes. Shiro stepped forwards, stopping Allura with a hand on the shoulder.

“Lance, you’re starting to panic again,” Shiro said gently. “I want you to focus on my voice. Can you take a deep breath for me?” Lance looked at Shiro, nodding and taking one deep, rattling breath in. He pushed it back out slowly. “Good. Very Good,” Shiro praised. “Another.”

They breathed like that for a long minute until Lance, exhausted, sunk down the wall to sit on the ground. Shiro knelt in front of him, Keith hovering just behind.

“Any better?” Shiro asked. Lance nodded shakily.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Don’t apologize. You had a pretty stressful episode earlier. Whatever that flashback was about, it obviously upset you.”

“What flashback? I never mentioned any flashback—”

“It could have also just been a panic attack,” Shiro amended, though his eyes remained too knowing for Lance’s liking. “But whatever it was, it obviously did a number on you. We should talk about this, but, for right now, I think you should rest.”

“Shiro’s right, Lance,” Keith said. “Maybe you should turn in early.”

Lance nodded simply, letting Shiro help him up off the floor. They made their way back through the halls, Keith trailing behind them awkwardly as Shiro all but carried Lance to his room. At the door, Lance tugged himself free of Shiro’s grasp.

“I've got it from here,” Lance said, opening the door and slipping inside quickly.

Keith and Shiro both called his name, surging forwards. Shiro got his foot into the door before it closed and it slid back open. He leaned into the room and opened his mouth to speak. Lance whirled around, looking over his shoulders with wide, haunted eyes. There was a helplessness there as if Lance was hanging from a thread with no idea how to get free and no one to call.

Shiro pursed his lips, overcoming the urge to reach for him and simply nodded.

“Have a good rest, Lance. Call us if you need us... If you need anything at all.”

And then he slipped out of the doorway, letting the door slide closed.

“Shiro—”

“Give him time, Keith,” Shiro said, turning to face the other boy. “Lance will talk to us when he needs us.”

“Really? Because he’s been avoiding the issue all day.”

“Then that makes time our best bet for getting him to open up. I know you care about him a lot, but that has to manifest in respecting his needs.”

Keith looked down, abashed. He nodded and let Shiro lead him back through the halls back to the kitchen where the others were eating.

“How is he?” Hunk asked from the table.

“Exhausted,” Shiro said, sitting down with the others. He beckoned for Keith to join them and he moved slowly to his seat, collapsing into the chair with a palpable weariness. “I think he may well sleep until tomorrow. He’s had a rough day.”

“Keith, did he tell you anything about what happened?” Pidge asked.

Keith shook his head. “Lance hasn’t said a thing. He doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“But then how do we keep whatever this was from happening again?” Hunk asked. “I’d say we need a training alternative for Allura, but she’s right that he was off the entire fight. The hit is just what brought it all to a head.”

“There’s nothing we can do until Lance wants to talk, so there’s no point in us hashing this out now,” Keith snapped.

“Keith, easy,” Shiro scolded.

“No, Keith’s right,” Allura said. “It’s wrong of us to work ourselves up hypothesizing about Lance’s current state when patience will yield progress in the long run. We should finish our meal and head to bed.”

The others nodded, turning quietly to their plates. Coran brought Keith a plate which he ate robotically. The entire time, his focus was rooms away, overwhelmed with worry for the blue paladin he’d grow to care so much for.

Back in his room, Lance was in bed. He’d put on his eye mask and his headphones but they couldn’t block out his own thoughts. His head was a whirl of activity. He just couldn’t stop the voices—

 

_ “Mari,” Therese hissed. “Abuela said to stay here—” _

_ “I’m not going anywhere, I’m just listening.” Mari said, opening the door a crack and pressing her ear to the gap. _

_ And there was so much to hear. Even through the slurry in his brain, Lance could hear the shouting. Could hear Carmen and Jimena tearing into Rogelio, raging at him. _

_ “You cannot kick a man out of his own house _ — _ ” _

_ “No one who treats a child such a way can call himself a man!”— _

 

Lance bolted upright, throwing off his headphones and mask. They were trapping everything in his head. He needed the outside noise— the hum of the castle, the passing of feet in the hall— to ground himself, else he would float away.

He lay back down, wiggling deeper beneath the covers and letting his eyes slide closed. He counted out his breaths like he had with Shiro, letting them become a rhythm like waves—

 

_ “Jimena! I am your father, you will address me with respect!” _

_ “I’m more than your daughter, Rogelio. I’m a woman in my own right _ — _ ” _

_ “And who made you such? Who raised you?” _

_ “Carmen,” Jimena yelled. “Tia Laura. Tia Regina _ — _ ” _

_ Rogelio laughed coldly. “So grown up yet still a silly girl. You would not be the woman you are without the men in your life.” _

_ “You’re right. I’d be so much better. I wouldn’t have to fight with a bully like you. I wouldn’t have to stand between a whip and my  _ child _ —” _

 

His eyes snapped open on a gasp. His mother’s voice was so  _ real _ . The argument could be right in the hall. He could still see that day— her eyes wild with fear and anger, blood dripping from her hand from when she caught the whip, the snake like welt up her arm from the aftermath.

The next morning, the kitchen had smelled of bleach. The floors had sparkled. But in the laundry room, the smell of blood hung in the air, rising off the dirty towels. Even now Lance could smell it—

Maybe he should call Keith. Or Shiro. Just someone to keep him in the present instead being sucked helplessly into the past he’d tried so hard to forget.

He took a deep breath, flinching at the smell of blood in his nose. He knew it wasn’t real, but it didn’t stop his stomach from rolling. He got up and went to his bathroom, grabbing a bottle of scented moisturizer. He rubbed it over his face and neck, surrounding himself in the sweetness of flowers and berries. He took one breath then another, grateful for the reprieve.

Lance tottered out of the bathroom and flopped back onto his bed, letting exhaustion tug his eyes closed.

 

_ “Your boy thinks he’s a girl, Jimena! He prances around in makeup and dresses _ — _ ” _

_ “But he doesn’t hit anybody. He doesn’t rage and hurt his family. And neither will you. Out. Now. So long as my children are here  _ you  _ will not be.” _

_ “Carmen, make the girl see sense!” _

_ “She does, Rogelio.” Carmen answered. “Jimena is not the one without reason. It is you.” _

_ “Carmen,” Rogelio growled. _

_ “You are a man without reason, without shame, Rogelio!” Carmen’s voice cracked at the end. “Now out. On your own or, God help me, I will call the police.” _

_ The following outburst had Mari flinching back from the door, pushing it closed with a hand and scurrying back to the bed. She climbed up beside Therese tucking herself beneath her older sister’s chin. Therese wrapped an arm around her, keeping her other hand in Lance’s hair. She began to sing, fast and frantic, voice thready with urgency as she tried to pull their collective attention from the escalating fight downstairs. Lance doesn’t know how long they stayed like that, him whimpering on the bed as the girls tended to his wounds, Mari straining to eavesdrop downstairs and then flinching away from anything she heard, and Therese keeping up a steady stream of lullabies in an attempt to carry them all away. _

 

Lance woke up crying, tears sliding down his face and back into his ears. He touched his cheek, feeling the nearly invisible ridge of scar tissue. That had been the fourth hit. The one that his mother saw. The one that nearly blinded him in one eye. The one Keith had brushed over so innocently today. And he had pulled away. Had jumped at the contact—a touch identical to dozens before, but today it had sent him reeling.

The mark was more than a decade old. Since he was seven he’d lied about how he got it—crashing his bike, a fight with a bully, a freak surfing accident—but it didn’t matter. Every lie he told was just a shroud over the truth and every time someone asked he had to remember that truth. He’d bought more skin creams trying to erase that one scar than he had for anything else but nothing could change the past behind the mark.

Now he couldn’t seem to lie anymore. He didn’t  _ want _ to lie anymore

He got out of bed, wrapping his robe tight around himself and slipping out the door. It was already the middle of the night cycle. He’d lost hours. He made his way down to Keith’s room and knocked on the door, crossing his fingers that Keith was awake. He had just raised his hands to knock again when the door slid open and revealed Keith, rumpled and warm in his pajamas. Seeing Lance, he was immediately awake.

“Lance,” He said, nerves and relief warring in his voice. He stepped forwards as if to pull the other boy into a hug then stopped, looking warily at Lance as if seeking permission.

The next second he had a trembling Cuban wrapped around him.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Keith whispered. He hugged Lance tightly, drawing him into the room and laying them both on the bed. He turned on the lamp and looked Lance over. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he seemed more exhausted than he had even in the kitchen.

“I’ve got you,” Keith promised. “You’re safe. I’ve got you, Cielito.” Lance burrowed into his chest and Keith held him there. He kept up that stream of reassurances until Lance calmed down and even after. They lay in the dense quiet, Keith pouring a mix of English and Spanish endearments into Lance’s ears until it seemed the other boy had fallen asleep.

Keith pulled the covers up around them, making sure Lance was all warm before turning the lamp back off, enveloping them in darkness. He sighed, running another hand up and down Lance’s back before letting it come to rest on the back of Lance’s neck. He brushed a thumb over the other boy’s pulse point, finding the steady rhythm there and letting it calm him.

They lay in dark silence long enough that Keith was starting to fall back asleep. He nearly missed it when Lance finally started to speak.

“I was seven,” he whispered. “We were at my grandparents’ farmhouse in Spain. They had a ranch and a garden and everything. Mi abuela, she could make anything grow given enough time.” His voice grew fond. “Abeula Carmen was my favorite person. She was always fun to be around and she would always listen to my ideas, even though I was a kid and most of them were nonsense. I was at the farmhouse with her and my grandfather and she and I were upstairs… I’d put on some of her old stuff: a skirt, some makeup, this one pearl necklace... and I was dancing. Rogelio, mi abuelo, found us.”

Lance went quiet and Keith grew tense. He tightened his hold on Lance, squeezing tight and feeling relief when the other boy turned into the embrace. Lance wormed up Keith’s body, moving to tuck his head into the crook of the other boy’s neck and took a shuddering breath.

“You don’t have to keep going if you can’t—”

“I want you to know.” Lance said. Keith simply nodded, waiting for the tremors to pass and for Lance to resume his story.

“Rogelio took me out of the house onto the ranch. H-he—” Lance’s voice shook. The tremors were back full force and he all but vibrated in Keith’s arms. Keith did what he could to soothe the other boy, plying him with gentle touches and words, but Lance shook regardless.

Lance took a deep breath and blew it out slow. This was the first time he’d told anyone. Not even his younger siblings knew. It was just known that Abuela Carmen left her husband and so we didn’t see him. No one talked about the lines up Lance’s arms, the one across their mother’s hand. It was history; something dead they’d sworn never to resurrect.

“Maybe we should do this in the morning,” Keith said gently. “It’s late and you’re upset—”

“I’m fine,” Lance snapped. Though as he spoke he heard the tightness in his throat, the pressure in his sinuses that meant he was crying. He lifted a hand and found tears sliding off his cheeks and down onto Keith’s neck. He wiped them hastily. “S-sorry,” he said.

“Stop apologizing,” Keith said. They fell quiet again, simply lingering in the darkness as Lance again tried to calm himself. When Lance finally spoke, the words were as steady and quiet as they were heartbreaking.

“Rogelio attacked me with a whip,” Lance said.

Keith went still beneath him. Mind alight with horrified realization. He clutched desperately at the boy in his arms. What could he say to that? Lance was crying again, slow tears sliding down onto Keith’s neck.

“Lance, I am so sorry you had to go through that. God, your own family—it’s no wonder today was awful for you.”

“I hadn’t thought about it in a long time. Not until Allura’s new weapon… I don’t know why Blue gave it to her. I mean, it doesn’t matter but… it hurts, I guess. I feel like Blue knows me so well—not that I don’t love Red but… Blue and I had so much time together. She knows me inside and out and that’s  _ still _ what Allura’s bayard is.” Lance laughed wryly. “And the worse thing is, I don’t even think this is about me, you know? You heard Allura. The lions give us what we need, so obviously this is what’s best for her and I should just suck it up but—”

“Lance, you don’t have to be okay with everything. You’re allowed to be afraid or feel betrayed. I know I would.”

Lance sniffled. “So I’m not being selfish?”

“No Lance. You’re just... going through a rough patch. That’s okay.”

“What do I do?” Lance asked quietly.

Keith thought for a long minute. What could they do? They couldn’t just change Allura’s bayard. Even if they could, there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t encounter an enemy with the same weapon. Lance needed to be able to defend himself without losing control like he did in the training room: he’d gone completely vacant, shooting any which way to keep them away from them. That couldn’t happen on a mission.

“I think you should talk to Shiro,” Keith said finally. “He has experience with flashbacks and confronting your triggers. He’d have better advice than me about this.”

Lance nodded tiredly and made to get up. Keith held him in place.

“In the morning, Lance,” he clarified fondly. “Shiro’s asleep and you definitely should be. You can go after breakfast. I’ll even come with you if you want.”

“I’d like that,” Lance said. He nuzzled back down, pillowing his head on Keith’s chest and sighing as Keith’s arms wrapped back around him.

“This’ll work out,” Keith said, as much for himself as for Lance. “You’re so strong, Lance. You’ll make it through this and whatever the universe throws at us next. And I’ll be right here to help, okay?” he looked down at Lance, shocked and relieved to see the other boy already asleep. Keith gave a sad smile, brushing a hand through Lance’s hair before letting his own eyes slide closed.

He fell back asleep, Lance safe in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? How does Lance read throughout this? What about Keith? Do they read okay together (is the klance klance-y enough even though it isn't a fic about that?)? What did you think of the team interactions?  
> (the author is nervous and needs validation)
> 
> Visit me on [tumblr](https://profoundprincessface.tumblr.com/) to figure out how i feel about ~things~

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? What was your favorite part? Did the piece read clearly? Should I write more stuff like this? 
> 
>  
> 
> Have a prompt you wanna see? message me on [tumblr](https://profoundprincessface.tumblr.com/)!


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